


Harry Potter and the Art of Reverse Swing

by SilverShroud



Category: Cricket RPF, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Dark Lords do not wear Yellow, Gen, Just not Cricket, Swing bowling is a power the Dark Lord knows not, just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24100723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShroud/pseuds/SilverShroud
Summary: This is a bit of absolute stupidity and the result of people telling me that my serious fics can end 'any way you like as long as it's not with a Super Over'.Cedric Diggory's soul is on the line and Harry Potter must work with the New Zealand Cricket team to defeat the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters in a civilised game of Cricket.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Harry Potter and the Art of Reverse Swing

“Now, Harry Potter,” Voldemort sneered, blasting a curse at the boy’s feet. “You will die by my hand.”

“Hey,” Potter cut in, “that’s hardly in the spirit of the game.”

“May I remind you,” Aleem Dar said mildly, “that Unforgiveable Curses are not permitted under the MCC Laws.”

“I do not accept your Muggle Laws,” Voldemort hissed, rounding on the Umpire. “I will not participate in this charade.”

“Then Diggory’s soul passes to Potter.” Dar pulled out his notebook. “Could I have your signature here?”

“Wait, wait…” Voldemort seemed diminished by such a muted reaction to his fury. “I accept the terms.”

Aleem Dar wandered off to keep an eye on the pitch, muttering something about this being worse than the match between England and Pakistan at the Oval. It meant nothing to Voldemort who, as Lord of Darkness and Master of Evil, had never seen a game of cricket.

“Can we use Imperius?” He called hopefully after the Umpire but got no response.

“You’ve got to pick a bowler and three batsmen,” Potter explained patiently. “Those are the people who…”

“Do not presume to lecture me, Potter.” The Dark Lord spat and whirled around to regard his followers. “Who here understands the Muggle game of Cricket?”

Very slowly two of his Death Eaters raised their hands and looked at each other guiltily. “We – uh – play a bit, my Lord.” Said Steve Smith, sheepishly.

“You play, Sandpaper Boy,” Kohli sneered, “I have perfected the art.”

“Oh, like you were in the last final of…” Smith began.

“ENOUGH!” Voldemort screeched. “I will deal with your treachery later. Now we must win.”

*

Potter’s team looked stylish he had to admit, all that black with silver accents. His team, or rather Kohli and Smith had fought about what to wear until Smith and transfigured Kohli into something he’d called a ‘box’ and insisted that they all wear yellow. Yellow was not the colour of an evil overlord.

“I think you look very nice,” commented Luna Lovegood. “Sun colours.”

“Shut up your stupid girl,” he hissed. “I will murder you and your entire family.”

“After the match.” Anjun Madugale, whose name even Voldemort who spoke six languages including Parseltongue, couldn’t say or spell properly, pointed out.

“Yes, yes,” Voldemort huffed irritably. “I will conquer and dominate you all AFTER the match.”

*

In Lord Voldemort’s opinion, whoever had invented swing bowling had to have been a Dark Wizard of unusual cunning and skill. He had argued with Aleem Dar that the ball was clearly under the influence of some malign curse because how else could it deviate like that but his threats of destruction and death had fallen on deaf ears.

“You will tell me where I can find this Trent Boult so that I may duel him.” He protested, as his team posted only ten from their over.

“I’m right here mate,” one of the Muggles waved cheerily, “gee, what happened to your nose. How do you smell?”

“Terrible.” Commented one of the other Muggles and the two of them collapsed into giggles.

“How do you understand these lower creatures?” Voldemort demanded of Potter. “And how have you bewitched the ball. It does not obey conventional laws of friction and aerodynamics.”

“It’s because of a magic you don’t understand.” Potter said blandly, rubbing the ball vigorously against his robes in a way Voldemort found positively indecent.

“I can love balls,” Voldemort said sourly, wondering if he could get any of that Sandpaper Smith kept talking about.

“I’m sure you can.” Potter said. “Anyway, it’s our turn to bat.”

The Umpires kept signalling something called a noble. Apart from agreeing that they were all very noble indeed; no one on Voldemort’s team knew what this meant and before they could work it out the Match was over and they lined up to shake hands. Cedric Diggory’s soul sat beside Harry’s kitbag looking rather relieved.

“Didn’t you tell him he wasn’t allowed to bowl underarm?”

“What do you think?” Said Harry, “Oh well, come on. Let’s go and ruin the next story.”


End file.
